TO THE LIGHTHOUSE
never rise, that he might be thwarted in every
possible way, since he had forced them to come
against their wills.
All the way down to the beach they had lagged
behind together, though he bade them " Walk up,
walk up ", without speaking. Their heads were
bent down, their heads were pressed down by
some remorseless gale. Speak to him they could
not. They must come; they must follow. They
must walk behind him carrying brown paper
parcels. But they vowed, in silence, as they
walked, to stand by each other and carry out the
great compact—to resist tyranny to the death.
So there they would sit, one at one end of the boat,
one at the other, in silence. They would say
nothing, only look at him now and then where he
sat with his legs twisted, frowning and fidgeting,
and pishing and pshawing and muttering things
to himself, and waiting impatiently for a breeze.
And they hoped it would be calm. They hoped
he would be thwarted. They hoped the whole
expedition would fail, and they would have to put
back, with their parcels, to the beach.
But now, when Macalister's boy had rowed a
little way out, the sails slowly swung round, the
boat quickened itself, flattened itself, and shot off.
Instantly, as if some great strain had been relieved,
Mr. Ramsay uncurled his legs, took out his